Quick Study
by carolinelea
Summary: Missing headcanon scene - how I imagine Winn took Kara's measurements for her suit, way back in S1. (I'm a sucker for the sweet nerdy guys. Sue me. #sorrynotsorry)


Winn Schott is nothing if not observant when it comes to Kara Danvers.

For example, he always knows when something is wrong with her. He can see it in the set of her mouth; can hear it in the tone of her voice. Sometimes, when she is especially hurt or sad, she speaks as though her mouth is full of glass – the words are rounded and soft, so they don't cut her tongue.

When Kara is close to tears, her chin trembles almost imperceptibly. He knows that most people's chins quiver when they are about to cry, of course, but Kara has a way of doing it that seems different and more devastating than other people.

Well, that may not be true. Maybe it just seems that way to him because she's Kara.

Sometimes, Winn wonders if he's really as good at reading people as he thinks he is, because Kara doesn't just wear her heart on her sleeve – she emblazons it across her chest like a big S. Her hope, her optimism, her bravery – they are like blinding beacons, impossible to ignore – and yet no one seems to see Supergirl in her tailored dresses and cardigans.

Seriously, the girl should never play poker. Ever.

He marvels that no one seems to recognize her as Supergirl. It's not like Supergirl's face hasn't been plastered across every enormous billboard and building in National City. In fact, he's seen Kara in her glasses standing next to a life-size picture of herself in her superhero uniform in a crowd, and the resemblance was so terrifyingly clear that he became very anxious to get her away from it.

But no one notices.

* * *

 _"Yeah, I know all those. What? I measured her for her suit!"_

Winn's hands clench at his sides, trying to keep himself from trembling. The measuring tape in his right hand is imprinting itself on his palm, but he's so nervous he doesn't really notice.

"Uh, so!" he says, his voice a little shaky. _Be cool, be cool, be cool._

Kara looks up from her take out box and grins. They're in her loft, she on the couch and he in the kitchen, trying not to shift his weight from foot to foot. Kara's record player turns softly in the corner of the room and all the windows are open to the night. It's a little like living in a tree house.

"Yeah?" she asks.

"You sure you still want me to make you a suit?"

"Well, yeah! You said National City deserved a superhero in an actual suit, right?" she says through a huge mouthful of food. Winn should find that at least a little gross, but since it's Kara, he doesn't. Of course.

"Okay, well, I need to get your measurements. Is that okay?"

Kara frowns at him. "Of course! Why wouldn't it be?"

"No reason," he replies, voice a bit higher than normal. "Okay, well, put that down and come stand, um…here."

She grumbles a little at having to put her food down, but she stands in front of him obediently, the mirror behind her. She looks at him expectantly.

"Okay. Turn around and face the mirror," he tells her, and she does. He runs the tape across the back of her shoulders, down the length of one of her arms, and from the top of her slacks to the knee, pausing to write the numbers on his forearm with a pen.

Now he hesitates. _Oh God, I can't do this._

"What is wrong with you?" Kara suddenly asks, and he looks up to see her watching him in the mirror, a quizzical expression on her face. He can't help it – he laughs in embarrassment and his face flares with color.

"I need to measure your bust line," he tells her, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

"Oh!" she says, comprehension flushing her face. "Right. Um…I can do it?"

He nods. "Yeah, that's probably best."

"So, how do I –?" she starts to ask, and he's grateful to duck behind her so that she can't see him.

"Here, let's do it this way," he says, and puts the end of the tape an inch or so above the clasp of her bra. He takes the loose end and pulls it out to the left, far away from her chest.

"Take that end and wrap it around, um – the – the fullest part."

Kara does so and then hands him the loose end. He takes it and matches it to the fingers he is using to hold up the other end against her back. He pinches the ends together, reads the number, writes it down on his arm very quickly, and then, holding the tape together but not touching Kara, he shifts it down to tighten around her waist.

She squeaks a little and he looks up in surprise.

"What?"

"Nothing," she says. "I just didn't know you were taking more measurements."

Her face is still pink.

"Oh, right, sorry," Winn apologizes. "I should've…I should've told you. I need to get your waist and hips, too. That's it. Is that…is that okay?"

He lets the tape loosen slightly, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable.

She nods.

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine. I was just surprised."

"Okay," he says in what he hopes is an expressionless voice, tightening the tape around her waist. He notices that she doesn't breathe out until he loosens it again to write the number on his arm.

"Just hips left," he reminds her, and she nods again, but doesn't say anything.

Wordlessly, Winn places the first end of the tape at the base of her spine. The tape has gotten twisted and, eager to be finished with this torture, he straightens it without thinking. It's only when he feels his fingers smoothing the tape across her hip that he realizes his mistake.

He hears her slight, sharp intake of breath and before he can stop himself, his eyes flick upward to meet her gaze in the mirror.

They only connect for half a second, but it's a half a second too long. Too much. Her eyes are too wide with some combination of what he thinks might be embarrassment, nerves, and some other unidentifiable emotion. Worry, maybe?

His whole body feels like it might spontaneously combust at any moment, so he quickly pinches the ends together, bends down to read the numbers, and then lets the tape go. It flutters to the floor and neither of them tries to retrieve it.

Winn stands up and swiftly steps away from Kara and the mirror.

"There," he says in a falsely casual voice. "All done."

"Cool! Thanks," says Kara a little too cheerfully, and they don't look at each other as she returns to her chow mein and he to his sewing machine.

He sets to work as she starts to chatter about something Cat had yelled at her today. He can tell she's sensed the awkwardness in the room and is trying to smooth it over; trying to bring their dynamic back to just two friends hanging out, so he lets her. He bends over the cloth he's tracing with a pattern and smiles to himself, occasionally chiming in with an understanding word. When he starts cutting the fabric, he glances at the numbers written on his arm and notices that they've smudged.

 _Not that it matters_ , he thinks to himself. _No way I'm ever forgetting those numbers, ever again._


End file.
